Six Poems

by Lilith Acadia

beyond the Nara deer park, a tanka

one spotted mushroom

by the trail catches your eye.

Pause to look closer,

then yellow fan, orange speckle:

you soon see many, vivid.

4:04PM before Children’s Day Holiday, a tanka

I thought I forgot

— brown red black cockroach swarm

chaos uncontained

by caution signs: recent spray—

until I passed the preschool

I hope you don’t think I’m myopic, a tanka

Removed my readers

when you neared me in the park;

I hope you see I’m

actually far-sighted,

not that I prefer you blurred

Text Messages from my Mother: flickering lights

The “injured while searching for dead bodies at Lake Mead?

Demand Compensation” billboard

with a smug Eric Trump impersonator

blares above a taqueria next to the garage

where the tow truck dropped us

in a strip mall with pastiche

Chinese temple architectural elements

concealing a fake mine shaft with flickering lights

where a hidden door opens to a tequila bar:

to enter, you must be 21 years old,

and have a reservation.

Text Message from my Mother: greed

Greed ought to be listed in the DSM.

Psychiatrists should research

causes and treatment for this socio-pathological disorder.

Text Messages from my Mother: figs

One day, I helped a woman find

plants for a pet chameleon

Apparently, females display

far better camouflage, even

polka-dots!

Now, I remember my teacher

who wore her pet chameleon

like a living brooch, it always

matched her top.

She bought a leafy creeping fig,

for her pet to lounge and hide in;

it prefers to play hunt and eat

live crickets.

Then this customer had puzzled

for years: someone explained once, but

he’s since forgotten why figs

on his tree stay green, until they

rot and fall.

Kadotas are among the figs

we sell. Though I showed him one he

remained incredulous: every

ripe fig he could ever recall

had been dark.

BIO: Lilith L. Acadia has writing in The Argyle, The Kenyon Review, New Orleans Review, Strange Horizons, and elsewhere. An assistant professor of literature at National Taiwan University and editorial member of the Taipei Poetry Collective, L. lives with a human and hound in the 'literature mountain' district of Taipei. Connect at acadiaink.com or IG and bluesy: @acadialogue